


The Sea of Stars (Fate Bought Them Together to Have A Big Fat Laugh)

by rosemaldrge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, But it’ll be like our lil secret or whatever, I debated about posting this, I mean lol ofc you don’t know who she is, If anyone says I need a therapist again, I’m going to make you send money to my PayPal so I can afford it, M/M, Ok this is the point you stop reading the tags, POV Remus Lupin, Sad Sirius Black, Scotland, Sea and Cliffs, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Angst, Sirius Paints and Writes, Spring, Yea I already have psychiatrists but that was a beehive we do not poke, also people, because I live in hell, but if the shoes fit feel free to wear it to hell, but the world is ending I’m dying, by hell I mean my house ofc, please don’t tell her I write this, remus lupin - Freeform, sirius black - Freeform, st andrews, this is not a diss track I’m not Eminem, well not atm but I give it three/four years at most, who gives a fuck what I said or do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemaldrge/pseuds/rosemaldrge
Summary: Why couldn’t people (read: Remus) spend their days taking long walks along the cliffs near Cadaqués in this beautiful spring weather, instead of suffering through the most disastrous day of it all? That was, until Remus sawhim.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	The Sea of Stars (Fate Bought Them Together to Have A Big Fat Laugh)

**Author's Note:**

> et tu, babe?

Remus first saw _him_ when he was on his way home after a particularly horrendous day at uni. 

It was just one thing after another. First, he had woken up late that morning because, for some accursed reason, he had set his phone alarm at 7.00 p.m. instead of a.m. He had only woken up because his roommate had the unfortunate habit of slamming the front door of their shared flat a bit too loudly as left, and Remus' room was right next to it. 

Other than jolting Remus awake on days like these, he truly fails to see the appeal of keeping up with his roommate’s miserable habit. Cursing slightly after checking the time, Remus turned into a miniature store bought tornado. He then stormed about his room trying to look the barest possible minimum of looking societally presentable; he desperately needed to leave for uni to attend his class that had started 10 minutes ago. 

By tricks of fate, this led to Remus blindly scrambling to stuff the entirety of his desk content into his bag - his laptop, copies of his printed assignments that he had to hand in that day, library books that were due last week, and his notebooks. Regrettably, that also included last night's unfinished mug of tea. From there, it just went downhill. 

He did make it to the class, about half an hour before it ended. By the time he had dodged the side eyes and snickers of people in the lecture hall, and somehow managed to make his way to a seat with no dignity left whatsoever, the professor had finished explaining the new assignment and he was affronted by the fact that everyone had paired up and was halfway through some task they had to hand in that day. Though that was fucking bullshit. 

From that point onward, Remus truly, truly, could not be arsed to recount the rest of his miserable day even if you paid him; that was the lie he was trying to convince himself as he trudged home in the beautiful spring weather that seemed to exist just to mock his misery. That was how, instead of taking the left turn down West Sands Road that led to his flat and spend the rest of his evening in his room to do what he was supposed to do, which was starting his reading for the new assignment, he decided to walk to the cliffs to shake things up a bit as a big unsubtle fuck you to the universe for having the nerve to throw a curve ball his way.

Truly, he did everything by the book. He kept his nose clean, he did his assigned reading before his classes, and he even finished his assignments early. Of course, he was insufferable from time to time but he was just human. Besides, who would even care that he hogged the bulk of the assigned reading books from the library? That he hadn’t even bothered to ring his mum ever since he returned to uni? Did it matter that he occasionally dipped into his roommate’s supply of peppermint tea because he was too cheap to buy his own? Whatever, right? He never claimed to be that _good_ of a person. 

This was how Remus found himself standing at the edge of the cliff right at the least crowded corner of the West Sands and staring forlornly at the sea. He must have stood there for a while, trying to not think too much about the hubris and pathos of the everyday man (god forbid being entangled in the logos of it all), stuck living their pathetic little existence much to the amusement of whichever deity stringing them along from the above. 

That must be how he didn’t realise that there was a man sitting to his right, drawing. 

By god if Remus wasn’t taken aback by just how beautiful the man was. He probably shouldn’t keep staring, but there was just something about the man that was so … _fascinating_ that he couldn’t stop. 

From the way his silky black hair was blowing in the wind to the way his light brown skin looked against St Andrew’s landscape. The flutter of his lashes that seemed so delicate against the sun that had started to set. He was just a daydream. It wasn’t just that he was breathtaking, it was the way the man held himself too. The way his hand moved across the paper. It was so certain, and graceful, but very precise too. Remus didn’t know what came over him, but he just stood there. Allowing himself to be lost in the sight of the man. 

He promised that he usually wasn’t such a fucking creep and had probably never stared at someone this long, at such close proximity too. He was not going to lie, he was watching at first because it was great to just escape the hell that was his mind; his shitty day that at some point included running into his ex at the library who looked far too lovey dovey with his new boyfriend at the library’s workspace. Far happier than he and Remus ever did. Just you know, go sit by the beach and do your garden-variety people watching. It was freeing, to an extent, the way he didn’t have to confront his own feelings. 

Actually, he didn’t want to. He was rather content avoiding it, to the point that he had started to wonder if they were still functioning normally in him. That whatever mechanics that was keeping him alive or even if they were still working inside of him. Who’s to say he was not an advanced automaton that had somehow assimilated into society, and feeding off people’s emotions was what kept his gears turning and mechanics churning. It got awfully sad and lonely sometimes, if he was being honest to himself. This whole business about not knowing if you’re a bad person or a faulty one (in case he's an automaton with nothing but gears and rusts inside of him). 

Remus was so caught up in his own reverie that he did notice that the man had stopped drawing. His hand hovered on the sketch pad for a bit, before he turned to look at Remus. 

Instead of throwing daggers at him, the man smiled. Remus wasn’t a religious man, but he felt as if he might be one at the moment. He felt so disarmed. Everything about the man felt surreal. From the way he was looking at Remus, all soft, blurry edges, as if the man’s existence was dancing between the line of reality and phantasm; to the way he was just _there_ . Remus was not even sure if he had remembered to blink ever since the man had smiled at him. But there was something about the man’s grey eyes that seemed a bit … off. Like he was looking through Remus, or rather a contrived version of something else that stood in _locum tenens_. Remus frowned and almost, nearly, said something but the man beat him to it. 

“There you are. Come. Sit,” the man said in a dulcet tone, as if he had been waiting for Remus all along. The man patted the patch of grass right next to him; he kept smiling that beautiful smile and Remus couldn’t help but to just … do it. It was as if he was mesmerised, or too confunded to even protest. That was all the man said for the next few hours, as he made no further effort to exchange pleasantries, or do other socially accepted conventions like introducing himself.

That is how Remus found himself sitting on the edge of the cliff everyday after his classes next to the stranger.

Sometimes, the man would share the titbits of his life, but never anything concrete. He could go on to describe the merits of this new flavoured ice cream that he had in a long soliloquy, or the time he went gallivanting in the depth of Scottish Highlands mist making friends with the faeries, but he never said anything about who he truly was, or where he was from, or the basics like why the fuck he had acted like he had known Remus his entire life. One day he was recounting a story and he casually let slip his name. That was how Remus found out that the man was called _Sirius._

Sometimes Remus suspected that Sirius wasn’t even his real name. Some days, Remus doubted Sirius’ existence all together. 

Whatever it was, Remus was content to just sit there, watching Sirius work and listening when he decided to talk. For whatever it was worth, Remus was genuinely interested in everything that Sirius had wanted to share, regardless of how deeply disturbing some of them were. It happened, these little slips that Remus never knew what to say in reply, where Sirius accidentally shared fragments of something that made him so unmoored like the little brother he had lost or how he had gotten his scars. 

Though then he’d shook himself out of it. As if coming to his senses, like a dog trying to get water off its ear after emerging from underwater. Like he caught himself crossing some sort of invisible line they never agreed upon. Then Sirius would pretend that the whole ordeal never happened and he went back to his smiles and made Remus laugh that Remus forgot about what he was supposed to be worrying about. 

Sometimes Remus wondered why Sirius even bothered to talk to him, as though Remus couldn’t comprehend how lovely he was, despite all the things he argued himself was. 

Regardless, Remus remained to be quite fond of Sirius, he had a soft spot in his heart for him, which was a bit mad all things considered. 

Remus was rather content with the fact that some days they could just be there together in silence. He knew that some days, Sirius was not up to talking, or acknowledging his existence even. It was just the way it was. Sirius was not doing it because he was being malicious or because he was cooking up some miserable scheme to make Remus go away. He was just … not completely there. Not quite tangible to engage in reality all the time. 

Some days Remus swore that Sirius just started to cry silently and Remus wouldn’t even notice it if it weren’t for the fact that the sketch paper had started to get all blotchy with the tears. Remus had never seen someone cry like that. It was unnerving to see it, the way that the man acted so calmly, like tears weren’t streaming down his face, and just continued to write or draw. It was a broken mechanic and disenfranchising to watch the lack of emotions that usually accompany the burst of intense emotions that would be associated with crying. 

There was no broken heave, nor sobs or trembling shoulders. Sirius didn’t even bother to wipe the tears off. There was a lack of despair on Sirius' face. In fact, there was nothing contrived or melodramatic about the whole ordeal. Unhinged was a word that kept coming to Remus’ mind whenever he thought of those episodes. 

Still, Remus kept coming back. He didn’t know if it was because he was used to it; going there to sit by the man had become some sort of routine that had surreptitiously embedded itself into his days, or the fact that he quite liked to endure the painful ordeal of watching the man not confront whatever demon that was residing in his head. Remus was a bit of a masochist after all. He could even be a rather uninspired version of an emotional vampire, feeding on whatever it was Sirius was suffering through by proxy. 

Or Remus could just be fucking around. 

In any case, the whole thing was great for his academic career. All the sitting around was great because he got to finish all of his assigned reading weeks ahead of time and he had even stopped hogging all the copies of the books on the reading list from the library. While his classmates were struggling with their last minute rush of finishing their assignments, drinking copious amounts of questionable energy drink and coffee mixture late at night, Remus was leisurely reading through his mammoth sized to read list and mucking about on the internet whenever he wanted.

It was rather nice, Remus thought, this whole thing about having the company of someone like Sirius. There was just something that was less scary, less direct, and with less consequences about this pseudo relationship than venturing out into the real world and building proper connections with actual people rather than a contrived idea of a man (read: Sirius) that was obviously fucking insane. Obviously, this was ideal because Remus was quite attached to not ruin the image of him in people’s heads, because he was certain they would uncover how truly shitty he was as a person if he started talking. 

Everything was going stunningly well, or so Remus thought. Until one day, Sirius just stopped showing up. 

***

“Oi bellend, there’s a parcel for you. Next time get your fat arse up and collect it yourself,” said his roommate as he banged Remus’ bedroom door open without as much as knocking. 

“I didn’t buy anything,” said Remus tiredly from the bed. _Honestly._

“Whatever, some bloke turned up just now and dropped it off. It has _your_ name on it.” 

“What bloke?”

“Didn’t get a chance to call Channel 4 to interview him.” 

“What sodding bloke? Was he not the postman?” Remus asked again, despite knowing how futile an effort it was to manage some sort of a civil conversation with his roommate.

“Jesus fuck I don’t know. Just some bloke,” said his roommate as he rolled his eyes and finally fucked off, not even bothered to close the bedroom door as he left. 

Trying to muster the patience to not punch his roommate into next week, Remus slowly got up from his bed and went to the front door. He was feeling a bit disoriented. He hadn’t left his room in three weeks other than for all the necessary bits that he must. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate. He probably deserved the call out, his roommate probably had been knocking his door for a bit and he couldn’t hear him because he had been busy trying, and failing, to bawl his eyes out to incrementally sad Spotify playlists that he laboured to put together all of last night. 

There was a parcel for him alright. It was sodding wet. Thanks to his lovely roommate, Remus supposed. So he really couldn’t identify the handwriting as the ink had run with the rain. Though he truly hadn’t bought anything online, Remus mused and he bent down to pick it up and he didn’t think that anyone he knew would be sending him parcels. 

It was just an ordinary cardboard box, with no stamps or any postal marks. His roommate was right then, it was not the postman. But who would some bloke be? Remus thought as he ripped it open, his heart nearly stopped when he saw the content of the box. 

There were a bundle of rolled up sketch papers in it, tied up with a bit of twine. His hands were shaky as he untied the knot, because surely … it would not be. But, it was. All the drawings that he had watched Sirius make on the cliff, with all the tangles of beautifully written prose on each of them of all the things Remus had ever bothered to say to him. 

Finally coming to his senses, Remus hastily opened the front door and ran outside.

There was no one. 

So there he was, left to wonder about the terrible ordeal of not having the person you love (?) in your life anymore. What do you do with all the fragments of sharp edges? What was he to do with all the nuances of knowledge that he had in his heart, of the flowers that made them smile, or the weather that made them soft? Or the way they laugh when their heart is full? What then? What would he do with them now?

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I write this in part because channeling my cold hearted bitch persona has somehow banished my usually emotionally slutty self from this plane of existence, and also because I’m trying to convince myself that choosing all these heartache that is currently wrecking my soul and all the missing her so much bit that I couldn’t fucking breath I’m doing is the right thing to suffer through because two people can love each other surely but it would not necessarily be enough. Maybe fate would be kind enough to let our paths cross again in a much better circumstances in another life.  
>   
> Some days talking to people is a burden, so I said very little or not at all. But it didn’t mean that I love or like her less. I never thought to explain this to her because one of the first things that she promised me was that she wouldn’t mind the difficult things and she said she would completely understand. Why am I so fucking stupid to believe that. But I guess I didn’t know what I promised either when I said I’d never be disappointed in her.  
>   
> Yeah, the roommate was definitely inspired by someone I lived with. They’re a right charmer.  
>   
> I wrote this with the barest minimum amount of sleep in days so give me a fucking break. Though if you still want to send me [hate](https://rosemaldrge.tumblr.com/ask) over this feel free. My ask box is always fucking open.  
>   
> Shoutout to the lovely [bethanlovescoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethanlovescoffee) for the world class beta work.  
> 


End file.
